


Charred Sails

by knittedace



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Caleb Widogast Gets A Hug, Caleb Widogast Needs a Hug, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Gen, Hugs, PTSD, Post Episode: C2E43 In Hot Water
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-12 12:04:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16872609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knittedace/pseuds/knittedace
Summary: In the aftermath of events on Darktow, Caduceus sees the opportunity for a conversation with Caleb.





	Charred Sails

Caduceus is heading down to the kitchen when he spots Caleb sitting on the deck, leaning back against the side of the ship. He’s right at the top of the U-shape seared into the wood, and although Frumpkin is curled in his lap, his eyes are fixed on the tattered, sooty edge of the sail above him, expression carefully neutral.

 

Given the day’s events, it’s concerning. Caduceus immediately puts his plans for the evening aside and heads over, because this is certainly far more important than pondering their next few days of meals. He’d been planning to talk to Caleb anyway, and this is as good an opportunity as any.

 

‘Hey,’ he says, sitting down beside him with a cheerful smile. Caleb glances over and greets him with a nod, but his gaze drifts back to the sails. Both his hands are locked into Frumpkin’s fur, not stroking, just holding, although the cat is purring softly anyway. He remembers how the first thing Caleb had done when he came back to himself on the docks was to summon Frumpkin to his side, how the first words he’d said had been to the guard who’d fussed over his familiar. ‘It’s nice to see Frumpkin back to being a cat again,’ he said, reaching out slowly to give Frumpkin a rub behind the ears.

 

As he’d hoped, Caleb brightens a little. ‘He prefers being a cat, it’s his favourite form. He’s been stuck in other shapes for too long, haven’t you, Frumpkin?’ Caduceus wonders for a moment whether Frumpkin actually cares what form he’s in, or whether Caleb has simply convinced himself of the preference. Caleb wouldn’t spend the time and supplies to change Frumpkin’s shape without good reason, and even though Frumpkin in cat form clearly helps him a lot after a bad day, Caduceus doubts he’d consider his own comfort enough of a reason. But if the change of form was for _Frumpkin’s_ comfort, well, that would be different.

 

‘Very sensible of him. It’s a good shape to be in,’ he says, taking his hand back. Frumpkin gives him a slow blink before settling his head against Caleb’s thigh, still purring, and Caduceus lets himself sigh. ‘Today was, well. A long day.’

 

‘Longer for me,’ Caleb says, because of course he didn’t sleep the night before. ‘But it went well. None of us got killed, no injuries you and Jester couldn’t fix. Avantika is dead, we are all out from under her influence, we are no longer pirates, we have a ship even if it is a little damaged, we can do as we choose again. It was a good day.’

 

‘Mmm. I almost feel like I should be giving you this back,’ Caduceus said, pulling the necklace out from under his shirt. ‘The first fight we get into after you give it to me, and you’re the only one of us who needed it.’

 

‘A little ironic. But you will need it far more than me in the long term, I suspect. We all rely on you and Jester to heal us - but mostly you.’

 

‘I’m sorry I couldn’t be more help in that fight.’ Or after it, for that matter. Seeing Caleb sitting on the dock and staring blankly into nothingness, half the skin on his face scraped off and worse injuries where Caduceus couldn’t see, and the guards not allowing him to _do_ anything to heal his friends - that had been hard.

 

‘Not your fault. I was much too far away.’ He shifts a little uncomfortably against the edge of the ship, as though remembering that crossbow bolt piercing his back. ‘Besides, I think the healing potion Fjord gave me was one of the ones you made, so you did help me anyway.’

 

‘That’s good. And speaking as the cleric, have you slept yet?’

 

He’s not surprised at all when Caleb shakes his head. ‘I lay down a little earlier, but I couldn’t sleep. Too much adrenaline, I think. I’ll go to bed once it’s dark and have a lie-in tomorrow.’ The sun is setting somewhere behind them, and even though it’s hidden in the growing stormclouds, it’s still casting a warm gold-orange light over the deck and sails. Hmm. That actually might not be helping Caleb right now. They both know it wasn’t adrenaline keeping him awake earlier.

 

‘Do you think you’ll sleep okay now? I could make you some tea to help.’

 

Caleb is shaking his head before Caduceus has even finished the sentence. ‘I’ll be fine, thank you.’

 

Caduceus nods and sits silently for a moment, considering alternatives. ‘Would you like a hug?’

 

‘A what?’

 

At least the surprise of the offer seems to shake Caleb out of whatever bad thoughts are in his mind. If only for a moment, there’s nothing in his eyes but confusion. ‘You look like you could use one,’ Caduceus clarifies, nodding to Frumpkin as explanation. The way Caleb’s clinging to the cat now - the way Nott had leaned against him on the docks earlier, even when Caleb couldn’t respond - says a lot. ‘I know what that’s like. I was alone in my cemetery for quite a while before you all came along. Sometimes you just need a hug.’

 

‘… do _you_ need one now?’

 

Ah. If Caduceus said yes, he has no doubt that Caleb would agree - but that’s the problem. If Caleb thought it’d make Caduceus happy, make Caduceus like him better, keep their odd family together and content? Then Caleb would do it, even if it made his skin crawl. Like he’d lent Frumpkin to Beau to cheer her up even though he clearly needed his cat, or given Caduceus the necklace even though it would have protected him today.

 

He shakes his head. ‘I’m good, thank you. But I’m always happy to give them.’

 

Caleb is quiet for a long time, his fingers slipping deeper into Frumpkin’s fur. ‘Sure,’ he says at last, so soft and uncertain that Caduceus almost didn’t hear it.

 

With great care, he shuffles closer to Caleb and slips an arm around him, gently tugging him closer so their sides are pressed together and Caleb’s head comes to rest naturally against his shoulder. It’s still a little odd to be so much taller than his friends, but he likes it right now, when it means he can rest his cheek on Caleb’s head and hopefully help him feel grounded, protected. He’d like to wrap his other arm around Caleb too and pull him into a closer hug, but he doesn’t. There are things he wants to say, difficult things, and he doesn’t want Caleb to feel trapped.

 

‘You good?’ he asks, and Caleb give a brief nod. He’s still tense, and he hasn’t done anything to reciprocate the hug, but that’s okay. Doesn’t matter if it’s awkward, as long as it’s helping, and after a few seconds Caleb lets out a small breath and Caduceus feels his shoulders start to soften. That’s very good.

 

They sit together quietly for a few minutes, just like that, and Caduceus would happily stay there until the last of the sun’s glow fades and the stars begin to shine through the few gaps in the clouds. But there are things that need to be said, and there wouldn’t be a better time than this. ‘You went somewhere else in your head, earlier.’

 

Caleb’s shoulders immediately tense again. ‘It… happens sometimes. It’s not important.’

 

‘I think it is.’ He’s never seen something like this personally before he met Caleb, but he’s heard of similar things. Twenty years back, there’d been one memorable man who’d come for a burial and stayed a week afterwards, to grieve and to seek some of the peace his sister had known in the Wildmother. He’d worked as a mercenary for the Empire, and he’d talked to Caduceus about it, about the memories that sometimes engulfed him, the sleepless nights, the fear that didn’t go away. Caduceus doesn’t think Caleb came about his trauma in the same way - he doesn’t fight like someone trained for battle - but he has been through something which tore him apart and left him with scars in his memories. Something that comes back at very specific moments. ‘You don’t have to use fire, Caleb.’

 

‘Fire is what I’m good at. It’s never caused a problem in a fight, if I…’ He lets go of Frumpkin just long enough to make a vague hand gesture near his head. Is that what he thinks Caduceus is concerned about? His usefulness in a fight? Because Caleb - like all his new friends - is so much more than that.

 

‘You’re good at a lot of things,’ Caduceus says, and Caleb shifts, twisting away from him a little like he wants to run. Caduceus makes sure he’s leaving Caleb free to move, that his hand on Caleb’s far shoulder is supportive rather than restraining. ‘You can walk away right now, I won’t stop you. But I think someone has to tell you that you don’t have to hurt yourself for our sakes. I can understand it if the situation’s desperate, if there really isn’t any other choice without risking someone’s life, but if it’s not? Then you can choose to step back and let someone else deal the killing blow, or use a weaker spell that isn’t fire. None of us would blame you for that.’

 

He can’t see Caleb’s face with how they’re sitting, and thinks that’s probably a good thing; he’s seen the mask Caleb puts on, and doesn’t want him to have to hide behind it right now. He can feel the slight roughness of his breathing, though, and Frumpkin is purring louder and louder. ‘It’s what I’m good at,’ Caleb says again.

 

Caduceus thinks of watching Caleb getting up from the ground, injured and exhausted and dazed, stumbling towards the ship and raising his hands and flinging a fireball that burned for an instant brighter than the sun, and doing that even though he had to know what it would do to his mind. Yes, he was good at it; that didn’t mean it was good for him. ‘I don’t know who taught you your only worth is what you can do with your magic. I don’t know who taught you that you have to give everything you have, no matter what it costs you. But I do know it wasn’t anyone on this ship. You don’t _have_ to do things that hurt you any more. That’s all I wanted to say. I’m sorry if it brought up bad memories.’

 

Caleb is silent, and stays that way for several long seconds, a bundle of tension tucked against Caduceus’s side. Then he takes a long, deep breath, and pulls away fractionally. ‘I should go and check on Nott,’ he says, voice very flat. Controlled. ‘There is a lot of gunpowder below decks, she might get overenthusiastic.’

 

‘Of course,’ Caduceus says, understanding the excuse for what it is, and pulls back as Caleb gets to his feet. He doesn’t turn to look back, and Caduceus wonders what he’s feeling that he doesn’t want to show on his face. ‘Tell her I say hi. And if you change your mind about the tea, or you need anything else…’

 

He simply nods, and walks away.

 

Caduceus lets out a sigh, and tilts his head up to look at the sky. ‘I think that went well,’ he says to himself. It isn’t easy to know with Caleb. Someday, he hopes he’ll earn enough of Caleb’s trust to hear the story he’s shared with Nott and Beau, to find out exactly what had happened to leave such massive scars across Caleb’s mind. Until then, he would do the best he could, and hope it helped.

 

The wind picks up across the deck, and he shivers for a moment, his side cold where Caleb had been leaning. No use sitting here anymore; he gets to his feet and heads inside to the kitchen. In a few days they’ll reach the shipwreck, where they will probably find some way to get into and out of danger again. In the meantime they can relax, and he intends to make sure they all do exactly that.


End file.
